Page 75 of The Wishless Ones
Jafar didn’t think it would be smart to divulge this to Iago, but he had fully intended to test the rubies’ efficacy on the parrot before Rohan had come strutting in. And they were perfect. His brother fought for barely a moment before he relinquished control. Jafar refused to look at him, instead lifting up his staff and admiring his handiwork once again. The serpent gleamed in the dim light, fanged mouth bared for a strike, red eyes brilliant. It was beautiful, worth all the tinkering he’d done in the laboratory since they’d arrived in Maghriz.
The rubies had never been treated so well.
Jafar strode for the archway leading back to the House of Wisdom, his robes rippling with the shadows. “Now come, let us see how our new toy works.”
And the palace banquet hall was the best place to play. The Sultana had made sure of it, albeit unknowingly, by changing out the guards and the staff.
“N-no,” Rohan protested. He sounded sluggish, as if he was fighting to articulate his words while half-asleep. “I’m—not—coming.”
“Jafar?” Iago warned. “I don’t think it’s working.”
Commit to it,Jafar told himself. Alchemy relied on the one who cast it. But it was hard seeing his brother struggle and knowing he was the cause of it. His brother, whom Jafar had protected since he could walk, whom Jafar would do anything for because Rohan had been the only one to ever love him back. To look out for him. To visit him in the unlit broom closet.
Rohan had also betrayed him. Jafar swiped the angry blur from his eyes.
He had swayed Baba’s hand with the scholarship.
He had taken credit for the papermaking secret, after the prisoner took a piece of Jafar’s humanity.
He had stolen Jafar’s crown, and thus, his princess.Yara, Yara, Yara.
Jafar faced his brother and rapped his staff on the floor. Rohan fell to his knees.
“That’s better,” Jafar whispered. “I’m doing this for us, brother. The Sultana must answer for her crimes.”
Rohan said nothing, just stared blankly. Jafar wasn’t certain he liked that.
“You did it, boss!” Iago exclaimed. “Excellent work.”
But he had Iago, and the sight of Rohan on the floor because Jafar had commanded it trulywasexcellent. This was the prince of Maghriz, the greatest kingdom in the desert.
Under Jafar’s control.
“We did,” Jafar said. He had never felt more free. “And this is only the beginning.”
Yara had known since she’d first met Jafar that anything between them would be impossible. She was betrothed to the prince of Maghriz, whom she thought was quite handsome if she could look past the boyishness of his features and personality.
She’d known all her life that she could only marry royalty. That a princess like her could never marry a House of Wisdom apprentice. And yet she’d gone and fallen in love with one.
When she’d seen Jafar in the library, sighing with a book in his hand, she hadn’t been able to resist. It was meant to be some harmless fun, a little bit of a thrill before she secured her life to another’s forever. But one word became another, then a laugh became a shy glance, and then she’d held his hand, and in the dark corridor of the palace, he’d kissed her soul into submission.
Oh, how she’d wished she could pull him into a room and memorize every inch of his skin.
Her face burned with the thought, her mind shielding her from reality with the impossible fantasy. The banquet hall was a cacophony, but Yara was secluded in the lush chambers of her mind, where she didn’t have to hear people eating and discussing her betrothal, conversing about the long-uncertain future of a united Maghriz and Hulum.
That should not have been Yara’s burden to bear, but it was one she was prepared to endure for her baba. Even if she wished she could walk through an endless bazaar beside Jafar, holding his hand and learning his secrets.
She hadn’t expected Prince Aman to be his friend. Close friend, judging by how quickly the prince had snapped at the Sultana and run to comfort him. Yara didn’t know what sort of leader that would make him, but she wasn’t too concerned. She was the daughter of King Qadir of Hulum; she knew how to wield both blade and power enough for two mighty kingdoms. It was her birthright.
At last, the doors at the end of the hall swung open again, and Prince Aman returned. He seemed…different, less like a passionate boy and more like an emotionless rag doll.
As she watched, he straightened, his spine sharpening and chin rising as if he’d been told to do just that. Jafar strode in behind him, dressed in black and crimson robes that would match her gown perfectly, and her heart lurched in excitement, but he didn’t even look at her. He didn’t appear upset or heartbroken in the slightest anymore. A veil she could only describe as sinister rested over his face, twisting his beautiful mouth into a wretched smile. Even his parrot looked a little vile.
The Sultana rose to her feet and rushed toward them. “Aman, my heart! You’ve returned!”
“Sit down,” said the prince.
She recoiled as if he’d slapped her. The hall fell silent at the striking command.
